iGet Married
by jesse's girl 95
Summary: Sam and Freddie's engagement forces family secrets into the open. What is Spencer up to? How does Melanie take the news? Why is Carly living with Gibby? Who is Mr. Benson? Give it a try, and please read and review!
1. iPropose

They lay snuggled on the couch together, his warm, strong arms wrapped around her possessively. She nestled further into his embrace, feeling incredibly beautiful and desired. The low murmur of the TV buzzed in the background, but he played with her hair as she gnawed on leftover ribs from that night's dinner with Carly and Gibby, wrapping a long blonde ringlet around his finger into a blonde sausage of hair.

Her foot curled against his knee, and he smiled at the little toes against his leg, and he began to remember where it had all begun…

"I'm through, Sam! You are always putting me down, and always providing emotional and physical pain to my life. I consider you one of my closest, best friends, and you treat me like, like... I'm done trying!" he shouted, furious at himself for allowing tears to burn behind his eyes. But he couldn't do this anymore. It hurt too much to have someone he cared so much about cause him this much pain.

He pulled at the doorknob, but stopped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. Startled, he turned around. Sam's years of dance training had provided an uncanny gracefulness, and she was incredibly light on her feet. He hadn't heard her come tearing down the stairs after him at all. "Fredward Benson!" she hissed slowly, in a low, cold voice that he had never heard her use before. He was shocked to see lines of hurt etched into her face, and a deep pain that seemed to be burning behind her eyes. "Haven't you figured out by now that beating on you all the time is my way of showing affection? Have you forgotten the words of a very special someone? 'When a girl constantly rips on a guy," she said quietly turning around and sitting on the Shay's couch. Freddie followed her over and tentatively sat down beside her. "It usually means they like them," he said quietly, echoing his words from so long ago.

Her head whipped around to look at him, pleased that he had remembered and didn't seem to be mad anymore. She loved to push his buttons, especially when he would get so frustrated that pink would flood his cheeks and the tip of his ears. But the thought of him giving up on her was unbearable.

They sat their on the couch, not speaking, listening to the rare quiet of the Shay's apartment. Carly and Spencer were both somewhere, out or gone. It didn't really matter to Freddie or Sam where they were. "Sam?" Freddie asked quietly. She slowly turned her head to look at them. "You know what I was thinking about?" he asked anxiously. "Um-do you remember that time like four years ago when we…when we-" he began, nervously looking at her face. Oh, that face. "When we kissed?" she finished. "How could I forget it, Freddwart?" she said sadly. "My first kiss." He looked at her, reached out his hand to touch her shoulder, her face, anything of hers, but thought better of it and let it awkwardly drop to the side. "But you wanted Carly's lips, not mine. And Jonah wanted Carly's lips, and Gibby wanted Tasha's lips—" she broke off, looking at the carpet, embarrassed. She had never admitted to anyone how hard it was to always be second best to Carly, whether in looks, grades, boys. Not able to help himself, he gingerly picked up her hand. He examined it, the hard calluses on her palm, but the incredibly soft skin on the back. "Sam?" he said, his voice several octaves higher than usual. He cleared his throat, and spoke to her hand. "Sam, that kiss was the best thing that's ever happened to me." He looked up, and she locked eyes with him. And before they knew it, their lips were pressed together, and they were kissing all over again.

She rested her head against his chest, smiling at the beat of his heart against her skin, and bringing him out of his daydream. "I love our life," she murmured softly. He leaned forward and kissed her on her barbecue sauce flavored lips. She reciprocated eagerly, but he pulled away. "Sam?" he said hoarsely. "What's wrong, Freddicinni?" she asked, trying to ignore the rising feeling of rejection. "Sam, I need you to do something for me." She looked up at him, startled by the urgency in his voice. "Sure, Fredward," she said, sitting up on the couch. "Anything."

He stood up and opened his laptop. After a series of complicated typing, he turned the screen towards her. Her own face, ten years younger, grinned back at her. "I'm Sam!" she announced. "And I'm Carly!" her best friend announced, giggling at Sam. "And I'm Freddie!" Freddie chimed in, his boyish face and tousled brown hair flopping. After a sarcastic remark from Sam, making the older Sam wince but the older Freddie smile affectionately, the girls screamed, "And this is iCarly!" The camera cut to a shot of Freddie, barely fourteen, looking at something above the lens. "Princess Puckett," he began sarcastically. The camera cut again to a shot of Freddie, now 25, on one knee on the floor. Sam gasped softly at the image on the screen. "Will you marry me?" the real Freddie asked, kneeling in front of her, holding a simple but beautiful ring. A basic gold band held a glittering princess-cut stone. She felt tears welling up behind her eyes. Unable to speak, she nodded, grinning hugely. He slipped the ring onto her finger and stood up, wrapping his arms around her. She traced his face with her left ring finger, alternating between looking at the beautiful stone on her finger and the beautiful face in front of her. "Yes, Freddie," she whispered.


	2. iTell Carly

"Carly?" she whispered into the phone, trying not to wake her sleeping fiancé. "Carls, are you there?" she listened to the quiet of Freddie's apartment, the clock gently clicking in the kitchen, his gentle breathing keeping time with the clicks. "I'm here, Sam," Carly said urgently. It was Sam's favorite phrase, and had been said to her by Carly in all of Sam's biggest screw-ups, when she felt completely alone. "Carls, you're never going to believe this. I have to see you. Now. Can you meet me at Galini's pie shop? In like, ten minutes?" she whispered into the phone. "Sure, Sam," Carly said with a smile, positive that she knew Sam's big news. "I'll be there."

They clicked off the phone, and Freddie sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Morning, Sam," he said brightly. "Aw, Freddifer. Did I wake you up?" she asked gently, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. He smiled, and lifted up her left hand. He folded it into a fist and kissed the top of her knuckles, the ring glittering. "It's beautiful, Fredly," she murmured. "Not as beautiful as you," he said with a broad grin. "How'd I get so lucky?" he teased, kissing her on the tip of her nose. Sam tucked her feet under her, and looked up at him. "Freddison?" she asked. "Yes, Sam?" he answered, unable to keep the grin from his voice. "I have to be at Galini's in seven minutes to meet Carly, k?" she said, standing to finish getting ready. "Um, Sam?" Freddie, said, his voice losing the sense of fun it held only minutes earlier, and taking on a cold tone. "You can't possibly think that you are going to tell Carly without me, do you?" he said in disbelief. "Of course not!" Sam said, surprised. "You're coming with me. Get ready, she'll be there in six and a half minutes," she answered lightly, pulling her hair into a high ponytail.

Carly ran a brush through her long brown hair, singing along to the radio. "Gib!" she called into the other room. "Gibby, I'm leaving, okay?" He shouted back an unintelligible response. She walked into the other room, and called through the door, "Gibby, I'm meeting Carly for pie. Actually, she'll probably end up bringing Freddie too," she chattered excitedly. "Tell them hey," Gibby muttered sleepily. "And bring me back a lemon meringue, would you?" Carly rolled her eyes. "Sure, Gib," she called, smiling to herself.

Two years ago, both of them were in desperate need of a roommate to rent an apartment close enough to Seattle University of Theology. Having been friends for years, Carly liked having Gibby as a roommate. In a way, he reminded her of living with Spencer—the craziness and the fun, yes, but mostly the friendship that both of them shared. She was constantly assuring people that they were "just friends," which was the truth. He was too much like the little brother she never had to even imagine anything remotely romantic happening. She grabbed her purse from the hook by the door, and hailed a taxi.

He slipped his hand into hers, and she squeezed it affectionately. "Do you think she'll be happy?" she asked anxiously. "Sam, do you _know_ Carly? I bet she's been dreaming about this day since we were sixteen," Freddie said with a laugh. Although, truthfully, he had far more reason to be anxious than Sam did. As far as he knew, Sam wasn't the one who had kissed Carly before…who had been openly in love with her until the day she returned his feelings and he realized he wanted Sam, not Carly…

"AHH!" Carly screeched as soon as she saw her two best friends in the entire world waiting for her outside of Galini's. She engulfed the two of them in a hug. Pulling away, she instinctively glanced at Sam's left hand, as was her habit since the two of them began dating nine years ago. To her shock, a huge glittering rock sat on the ring finger. "Oh, my God. Oh my God!" she whispered. "Sam, it's absolutely gorgeous!" she shrieked, hugging her again. She turned to Freddie, hugging him as well. "You did good, boy," she said with a smile. "Let's order some pie and you have to tell me everything!" she said excitedly.

Five minutes later, seated at a table with a large coconut pie and three forks, Sam and Freddie alternated telling the story of how he proposed. "…and, obviously, I said yes!" Sam finished, smiling at the unbelievable proud and pleased look on Freddie's face. "And, Carly?" Sam asked softly. "Carly, we want you to be the maid of honor with Melanie."

Tears streaming down her face, Carly wrapped her arms around Sam. "I just can't believe that we've been talking about our weddings for 15 years, and now it's here, and it's you and Freddie, my two favorite people in the world, and you just asked me to be your maid of honor, an you're planning a wedding," she blubbered. "I'm so, so happy for you guys!" she said. "Have you told the moms? Or Melanie? Oh my god, you have to tell Spencer, he's been waiting for you guys to get married since you were like 12," Carly chattered on excitedly. "Yeah, we're going to my mom's house now, and then to Mrs. Puckett's," Freddie answered happily, taking a bite of pie. "But we wanted to tell you first, Carls," he said smiling. "I'll let you guys go then. Tell me if you need any help with anything, you guys. I mean, I totally get it if you guys want to plan the wedding with your families and everything, but if you need anything-" Carly said, standing to go. "Carly! We're going to be calling you so much you'll get sick of us," Freddie assured her. "Carls. You can't possibly expect to be the maid of honor and not take part in the planning. You'll be there, girl, okay?" Sam asked, rolling her eyes. Carly grinned, and gave both of them one last hug. "Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Benson," she said, echoing a line of Sam's from so long ago…


	3. iOver Protect

_**A/N:. This chapter is dedicated to Fiddlegirl, X-Star-Girl-26-X, and Shana852963 for their amazing reviews. Thanks! **_

_**The chapter turned out a little bit darker than I thought it would, but I think it ended up okay. Do you think the ending is okay? Thoughts?**_

One hand clutched hers as the other rapped on the wooden door. Sam nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, anxiously anticipating Mrs. Benson's reaction. "Relax, Sam," he murmured. "We'll tell her the news, and then we can go and see Spencer, then we'll be meeting your Mom and Melanie for lunch, and then we can go back to the apartment…" he whispered into her ear. His breath raised goose bumps on her cheeks, but she adored the sensation and let the voice float around her. At a faint click, he quickly straightened up. "She's at the door, peering through the camera," he explained. "Hang on, we still have two and a half minutes until she finishes typing in the security code and opening all of the locks." They gazed at the thick wooden door. "Fredhead, remember when we first started dating? And your mom made me get CPR certified? And any time I came over, she would…sanitize me?" Sam asked, her voice shaking slightly. "Sam, she loves you. Anyone who would get CPR certified and go through an extensive sanitation process anytime she came over just to be with me?" he said with a grin. "Here she comes."

The door slowly swung open with a suspicious Mrs. Benson clutching the doorknob. "Freddie! Oh, honey, I've missed you so much," she said, pulling him into a hug. "Have you been applying your ointment daily?" she asked, pulling back while examining his neck. "Samantha, I surely would hope that you are insisting that Freddie apply his ointment," she said sternly. "Hi, Mom. Can we sit down? Sam and I have some news for you," Freddie said, giving Sam an encouraging smile. Hand in hand, they walked to the couch together, sitting across from Mrs. Benson. "I hope that you washed those hands before wrapping them around Freddie's fingers," she muttered to herself. "Mom?" Freddie said loudly. "Mom, Sam and I are getting married," he said happily.

Mrs. Benson's face froze, her eyes fixed upon the ring on Sam's finger. A few moments went by, and she leaped up. "Oh, Samantha!" she cried, to both of their surprise. She clutched Sam's hands, and grinned broadly. "Oh, Freddie, Samantha, I am so happy for both of you! I knew it, I always knew it. Samantha, I hope that when you and Freddie are blessed with children one day," she began, and proceeded to knock on the wooden coffee table, "you will understand what I put you through all of these years. I love Freddie so very much, and I just couldn't bear for anything to happen to him. Especially something avoidable. A simple tick bath is all it takes to ensure protection against ticks…but anyway, he loves you, Samantha. So you have to take care of yourself, and Freddie. Oh, Samantha, you will be like a daughter to me! Give me a hug, you two," she cried happily.

"Mom, can you give me Dad's phone number so that I can invite him to the wedding?" Freddie asked innocently. Pulling away, she looked at Freddie with an emotion that Sam couldn't quite place. A mix of happiness, anxiety, and anger clouded Mrs. Benson's face. "Freddie, that is so…thoughtful of you, sweetheart. But, um, I don't think I have his number," she said, her eyes darting around nervously. "Mom, come on," Freddie said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I'm twenty-five years old. I can take care of myself now, and I want to send him an invitation. I know you have that number," he said, sitting down on the couch angrily. Sam looked at the two faces, set in grim determination; wondering what in the world she had missed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of them willing to give in to the other. Finally, Mrs. Benson sighed. "Freddie, are you really going to put me through this right now?" she asked angrily. "It's emotional enough for a mother to learn that her son is getting married, to dig all of this up too…" her voice trailed off. "Fine. Samantha, I suppose you might as well know about Freddie's father. This is very difficult for me to talk about, it's something that I've never even told Freddie. All he knows is that me and his dad got divorced when he was one." She sat down on the couch and paused. "Leonard was a year older than me, and we were high school sweethearts since my freshman year. Everybody thought that we were the perfect couple, voted prom king and queen his senior year, and it wasn't a surprise to anyone when we got married in my parents' backyard in 1987. Nobody knew what he was like when we were alone, and I couldn't tell anyone. Leonard had always been smart. Smart, handsome, but very quiet. It wasn't until we got married that I discovered that he used his quietness as a cover for the evil underneath. He would get so angry…and he would…hurt me. He hurt me badly. But I loved him. I understood that he hurt me because of the pain he felt. I was a nurse at the time, and it had always been my nature to heal, and I wanted him to feel better, even if it was at my expense. And afterwards, he was so, so, sorry, and unbelievably sweet."

She paused, looking down at her hands. Sam hesitantly put her hand out, and let it rest on top of Mrs. Benson's. She took a shaky breath, and continued, "When I first got pregnant, I hoped that the baby would be able to cure Leonard, to stop this pain that he felt. I loved being pregnant, having this incredible thing growing inside of me, that me and Leonard had created together." She gently placed her fingers on her stomach and smiled at Sam and Freddie. "I was pregnant for eleven months. I had to make sure that Freddie was ready to come out into the world, yes, but Leonard didn't lay a hand on me while I was pregnant. I wanted to enjoy this false sense of security for as long as I could. And then, on February 4th, 1994, Fredward Karl Benson came into the world. When Leonard first held you, Freddie, I could have sworn that something inside of him had changed. He looked down at you with such love and care, that I truly believed that everything would be okay."

She cupped Freddie's chin in her hand, and looked into his eyes. "Freddie, your dad loved you. But, it's a lot of work taking care of a newborn. I loved every second of it, the feeding, the changing, the rocking, the bathing. But Leonard had little patience for things less than perfect. He just couldn't see the complete perfection of a newborn. Two weeks before your first birthday, I had run out to the store to buy a carton of milk and a jar of peanut butter. You were asleep, and Leonard was replacing a burnt-out light bulb. You woke up, crying, like all newborns did. Leonard went up to get you from your crib, but he couldn't get you to stop crying."

She reached up to wipe the tears that had started to gather in her eyes. "Freddie, he got so frustrated, that he…he shook you. You still wouldn't stop crying, and he placed you on the ground. That's when I came home. I heard the crying, and rushed upstairs, where he had raised his foot above your beautiful face. I pushed him out of the way, and picked you up, cradling you in my arms. He shoved me to the ground, and slapped me across my face. I hardly felt it, although it left a red handprint across my cheek for weeks afterwards. I was so thankful that I had gotten home when I did, because if I didn't…if I hadn't come running upstairs…" she pulled a tissue from the box on the coffee table and blew her nose loudly. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she continued, "I locked you and me in the bathroom and waited for him to calm down. Ten minutes later, he knocked on the door gently, crying. 'Marissa,' he said, that voice of an angel. 'Marisa, I am so, so sorry. It will never happen again, baby, just come out of the bathroom.' But he had fed me that line for eleven years. I went to my lawyer's office the next day, and we received our divorce papers the day before you turned one. And Freddie, the second I picked you up off of the floor, I vowed never to let anything hurt my beautiful baby boy ever again," she finished, smoothing his hair. He took a deep breath, and stood up, quietly leaving the room. Sam stood to go after him, but Mrs. Benson shook her head. "Just give him a few moments Samantha," she said softly.

Sam sat, lost in her own thoughts. Everything made sense now, why Mrs. Benson was so incredibly over protective of Freddie, why his father was never spoken of. She looked up, and saw Mrs. Benson watching her reaction nervously. Sam walked over, and sat down beside her. "Mrs. Benson, I am so, so sorry that you had to go through all of that," Sam said, wrapping her arms around her soon to be mother-in-law. "But, thank you," she said quietly. "For what, honey?" Mrs. Benson asked. "I am the reason he almost didn't make it." "For saving him," Sam said fiercely, and she stood to go find Freddie.

He aimlessly walked from one room to the next, not seeing anything, trying his best not to feel anything. He ended up in his old bedroom, which looked exactly the same as it did when he had moved away seven years ago, off to college. The same Galaxy Wars bedspread he'd had since he was seven with its hospital corners tucked in, all of his gadgets littering the bureau and dresser. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his palms. Silently, Sam entered the room and sat next to him. He slowly sat up and looked at her, this beautiful girl sitting beside him. He knew her so well, every freckle on her face, every expression. She had been always been there. He laid his head on her shoulder, and without a word, she reached up, stroking his hair. It felt good, being able to lean on her.


	4. iBrother

Spencer Shay was in the zone. Standing on top of the kitchen table, he threw a paint-filled water balloon to the ground, beaming when it exploded onto his canvas. He leapt off of the table and ran to the pantry, grabbing a bag of salt. After sprinkling the crystallized grains on top of his masterpiece, he darted to the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of juice. Taking a long sip, he sighed happily at the morning's accomplishments. With a loud click, the door swung open in time for Spencer to hear a very familiar voice groaning, "Sam, you can't just do that to people's doors. Why can't we just knock like—oh, hey, Spencer," Freddie finished sheepishly. "Freddo! Sammo! Long time, no see. You guys want juice? Sliced melon?" Spencer asked, crossing the room to hug them hello. "How goes it?" He pulled away, and noticed the sparkling silver ring on Sam's left ring finger. "That's a boy, Freddie! Sit down, sit down, talk to me," Spencer said excitedly.

Sam and Freddie sat down on the couch, and Freddie smiled, the earlier excitement of the engagement coming back to him. He pushed his thoughts about his dad aside for now; he would deal with that later. He owed it to Sam to be happy right now.

They finished the story for a third time, and Freddie beamed at Sam. "Do you think we'll ever get tired of telling that story?" he asked. Sam glanced over at Freddie questioningly, surprised at how upbeat and cheerful he seemed. Spencer sighed happily. "I just love a good romance," he sniffed. "The magic meatball and I have always known," he began, smiling fondly at the memory. "Shortly after telling me to drink ketchup, I asked it if the two of you would ever get married." Freddie rolled his eyes, but Sam leaned forward eagerly. "What'd it say, Spencer?" she asked. Freddie laughed. "Sam, you can't actually believe what a magic _meatball_—" Spencer cleared his throat loudly. "Absolutely," he said, looking at the two of them smugly.

"So, when's the big day?" Spencer asked, trying to push away the emotions beginning to erupt. They were just his little sister's friends, yes, but over the years they had become more like family. He gazed at the tall, strong, man that Freddie had become, the little boy Spencer had given first date advice to, who had crashed on the couch in their living room more times than he could count, asking Spencer about everything from what sneakers to buy to shaving.

Sam was perched on the couch next to him, absently rubbing the top of his hand with her thumb, comforting him. Having spent more nights in Spencer's apartment than her own, Spencer knew Sam inside and out. By the time she turned eleven, he automatically bought extra food, sure to have a box of microwavable bacon or frozen meatballs anytime she came over. He had been there through all of her crises and heartaches, quietly sitting on the side while Carly muttered and paced, imagining pain on whoever dare hurt her.

He loved the two of them, in a protective older brother way. But the thought of them getting married made him sad, forced him to think about Carly growing up and moving away, and dwell on the fact that he still lived in his apartment alone, spending his time throwing paint-filled water balloons at canvases…

"We haven't really gotten that far yet," Freddie explained, jarring Spencer out of his thoughts. "But we wanted you to be one of the first people we told," he said. Sam jumped in, adding, "Spencer, you're like the big brother that neither of us had. I mean, you've been there for us for years, putting up with three teenagers set's of hormones going crazy, guiding us, and always making us feel welcome here," she said with a small smile. "Anytime my mom was having one of her…bad days, I knew that I could come here, and be okay," she finished quietly.

Freddie squeezed her hand and nodded vigorously. "Yeah, if you guys didn't live across the hall, and it was just me and my mom, I would have lost it," he said seriously. "And, with two girls for best friends throughout high school, I needed some guy time. With no dad," he continued, wincing, "who else could I have gone to for advice on my first date? Whose couch could I have slept on that time that I moved out and was terrified of the generator in that closet Lewbert called an apartment?" he asked. "Anyway, what we're trying to say is…Spencer, will you be my best man?"

Spencer walked over to his painting, his back turned to Sam and Freddie so that they wouldn't see the tears falling from his eyes. He cleared his throat awkwardly, "Thanks, you two. I can't even tell you how much that means to me. Of course I will, I would be absolutely honored," he said, kneeling down to examine the canvas. Sam walked over and kneeled down next to him. "I love that, Spence!" she said, with genuine enthusiasm. Freddie laughed, coming over to join them. "Yeah, anything with salt sprinkled on top, you'd love." Spencer looked over at the two of them. "Oh, you don't leave it on. Look, the paint's started to dry, see? So you rub the salt off, and looks mysterious and awesome!" he explained, chipping off some of the salt grains to demonstrate. Freddie leaned over, fascinated. "Can I try, Spencer?" he asked. "Sure, Freddo. Go ahead," Spencer answered with a shrug.

Leaning over the painting, Freddie rubbed the salt off of the picture. Rough against his fingers, the salt crumbs stung as they parted with the picture, but the effect of their absence was stunning…and beautiful. Looking at the finished product, you could see the holes where the salt once lay, soaking up the paint. But the holes? That's what made it beautiful.


	5. iMeet the Pucketts

_**A/N: Please read and review! Would love to hear some feedback on the story so far. (And any suggestions on a title change for this chapter are more than welcome!) I'll either wrap things up in a chapter or so, or go all the way up to the wedding. Thoughts? Thanks for taking the time to read!**_

Freddie gripped the steering wheel at ten and two o'clock, consistently checking his rear view mirrors and coming to a complete stop at each stop sign and traffic light. Usually, Sam would complain loudly when riding in the car with him, teasing him about his dorky driving habits, her heart hurting in a way she didn't quite understand as she watched how seriously he took the rules of the road and how hard he worked to ensure her safety, but today? Today was different. She watched as he drove, stopping a second too long at stoplights, (even by his standards), hesitating before merging lanes. "Hey, dork?" she asked quietly, a shadow of a smile on her lips. "Yes?" he responded, squinting at the freeway sign. "Love you," she whispered.

He pulled over to the side of the road, put the car in park, and turned in his seat to look at her. She had leaned forward so that her long, curly blonde hair covered her face, making it impossible for him to read her expression. "Sam?" he said, his voice cracking. Gently, he reached out to her, tucking her hair behind her ear. He traced her profile, waiting for her to meet his gaze. Finally, she looked up. "Alfredo?" she said softly. "I'm really, really sorry about your dad, and I hate what he did to you and your mom. The thought of anyone hurting you…kills me. But at least you know he loves you. He's sick, Freddie. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love you. And him leaving was the best thing he could have done for you," she said, looking out the window. "At least you know he loves you," she echoed quietly.

Unbuckling his seat belt, he kissed her on the head and sighed sadly. "I just had always imagined him as the perfect dad who left my mom because, well…you know my mom. But look at me, Sam. I am the luckiest guy in the world. The girl of my dreams has promised to be with me forever, and I'm upset about some guy who I never even knew. And I'm hurting you, Sam. I'm so, so happy, and—" she leaned into him and kissed him, succeeding in shutting him up, and wiping his mind blissfully clean. All that mattered were her lips moving along with his. He reached up to pull her closer to him, entwining his fingers in her hair. Breaking apart, they leaned back against the seat, breathing hard. "Oh, Sam?" Freddie asked, slightly out of breath. "Yeah?" she asked, her face flushed prettily. "Love you," he answered, pulling the seat belt across her chest and clicking it into place.

He pulled into a parking place, and walked around to open Sam's door. She climbed out and began waving. "Oh, look, there's Melanie!" she said with a smile. Although they often fought, the girls were incredibly close. Melanie came running over, dressed in pink from head to toe, her ponytail bouncing from side to side. "Oh, Sammy! I've missed you so much. Look at that rock!" she squealed, throwing her arms around her sister, eyes widening at the diamond resting on her finger. "Hi, Freddie," she said politely, giving him a hug. "Hi, Melanie. Was your flight in okay?" he asked, reaching over to hold Sam's hand. "Oh, yes, it was fine. It's so good to see you two! I think Mom's inside already," Melanie answered, picking up Sam's left hand to examine the ring.

Sarah Puckett watched out the window as her beautiful daughters the parking lot. She smiled at Freddie's fingers wrapped possessively around Sam's as Melanie talked animatedly, grinning at the two of them. An unmistakable glow exuded from her daughter as looked at Freddie with so much love and pride that it broke Sarah's heart a little bit. Her Samantha Joy wasn't hers anymore—she already belonged to him.

"Mom!" Sam and Melanie cried in synch, enveloping their mother in a hug as Freddie stood to the side, watching with a small smile on his face. "Oh, look at the two of you," Sarah said. "Hi, Mrs. Puckett," Freddie said, a hint of shyness in his voice. Although he had known Sam for most of his life, he rarely saw her mother. He didn't know much about her, most of his information gathered from comments Sam let slip, or things Carly had explained to him. He knew that she was a recovering alcoholic, who had good days…and bad days. He knew how hurt Sam was when Melanie left for boarding school, but relieved at the same time, knowing that at least Melanie would be alright. And he knew that the three of them shared a special bond and a special kind of love.

"Look at the ring, Mom, it's gorgeous!" Melanie said, pulling Sam's hand across the table. Sarah examined it, admiring how it emphasized Sam's long, feminine fingers. "Very nice, Freddie," she said appreciatively. Freddie smiled, pleased that it met Sam's family's approval. "I'm going to the bathroom," Sam announced, pulling her hand back and sliding out of the booth. "Order me soup, a burger, and get something good, 'k?" she told Freddie, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll come too," Sarah said, grabbing her purse and standing up. "You'll keep Freddie company, Mel?" she asked. "Of course, Mom!" Melanie answered, smiling sweetly. She watched as they walked away. The second they turned the corner, her eyes snapped to Freddie. "So, you're going to marry my sister, huh?" she asked, her voice several octaves lower, any trace of sweetness gone from her face. "That's the plan," Freddie replied, chuckling nervously. "She loves you, Freddie. And she trusts you completely. Sam doesn't give her love…or her trust to many people. At twenty-five, she's been through more than most people should have to endure over a lifetime. And still, she goes through life with a smile on her face, and an appetite for life. She deserves a happily ever after more than anyone else in this world," she began, talking very slowly, enunciating each syllable.

Seeing Sam so genuinely happy thrilled Melanie. Ever since she left for boarding school at age twelve, she had been consumed by guilt for leaving her sister behind. Sam was the strongest person she knew, the only one able to pick up the pieces of their family and put them back together. But seeing Sam fall under Freddie's spell put Melanie on edge. It was clear that Sam had let her guard down, fallen for Freddie completely. Melanie felt it was her job to keep Sam from getting hurt ever again, payback for all the times that Sam had protected her.

"I agree wholeheartedly," Freddie answered. "Sam's an incredible girl. I love her—" he continued, but Melanie cut him off. "Yes, Freddie, you love her. But listen to me. If you do anything to hurt my sister in any way…if you cause her any pain at all…you will have made three Puckett girls furious. And trust me on this. You _don't_ mess with a Puckett," she growled.

Sam walked into the stall, slid the lock closed, and rested her forehead against the cool metal door. She took a few deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, listening for the sound of her mother's heels, clicking on the tiled floor. The door creaked open, and a familiar voice called, "Sam, honey? Are you alright?" Sam squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears gathering to absorb back into her eyelids, or just disappear. The whole weekend had been filled with tears. Sam hated crying more than anything. She cleared her throat, and called, "Just a minute, Mom."

Slowly, she pushed open the door, meeting the reflection of her mother's eyes in the bathroom mirror. "What's wrong, baby?" Sarah asked, longing to pull Sam into her arms. Twenty-five years of experience had taught her to wait for Sam to come to her, so she gripped the counter instead. "Oh, Mom. I love Freddie, so, so much. And we went to his mom's apartment to tell her, and Freddie asked about his dad. Mom, he beat Mrs. Benson, and he—he shook Freddie and almost killed him when he was a baby. And Mom, I want to hurt him. How _dare _he hurt Freddie so much like that?" she ranted, running her fingers through her hair, frustrated. " But then I start to think about our dad, and how he left you the second he found out you were pregnant, and how you were completely alone, on a _bus _when you had me and Melanie, and neither of us ever grew up with a dad. But, Mom, Freddie's dad loved him. He loved him enough to know he had to leave. Our dad never even loved us," she said, her voice breaking. "But then we went to Spencer's and he's always been there for both of us, all the time. Freddie asked him to be his best man, which is so perfect, oh yeah, I asked Mel and Carly to be my maids of honors, did I tell you that? And Spencer looks exactly the same, and he was in the middle of one of his paintings, and whenever we're in his apartment, everything is exactly the same, but it's not, you know? Because all of us are so different, and we're all changing so much, and growing up so fast, and I just want all of us to be fifteen again, doing iCarly and all sorts of crazy things, and just having fun and not worrying about anything at all. And Spencer was so happy for us, but I could tell that it made him sad, and I just feel like, like…" Sam trailed off, surrendering to the tears and her mother's arms.

"Oh, Sam. Sweetie, I love you so much. And I am so proud of you, honey. Freddie loves you. You can tell in the way he looks at you. I've never seen you so happy, so…full of joy," she said, stroking Sam's hair. "I used to tell people that you came out of the womb laughing. You were my Samantha Joy. I haven't always been the best mother I could be to you and Melanie. And that kills me. It took me twenty years to get my act together, and then you were gone. But it makes me so happy to see you so happy. And yes, things are changing, but that's okay. It's okay."

Sam gave Sarah one last hug and pulled away, leaning in to the mirror to try and repair the damage done with the tears. Sarah smiled sadly, watching as Sam reapplied mascara and eyeliner. "We better get back to the table," Sam said, blowing her nose on a paper towel and walking towards the door. "Who knows what Melanie could be telling Fredward?"


	6. iClean

_**A/N: A short little chapter for mystapleza and Anonymous24. More to come soon. **_

Arms full of groceries, Carly kicked at the door, calling Gibby's name. No one answered. She sighed, placed the bags on the floor, and dug out her key ring. Mumbling to herself, she held the door open with her hip, scooped up the groceries, and walked inside. Gibby sat at the kitchen table, the phone lodged between his shoulder and his right ear as he frantically took notes with Carly's fuzzy pink pen. "Gibby!" Carly scolded. "I'm at the door, arms full of groceries, and you can't be bothered to—" he waved his hand around, frowning, trying to get her to stop talking. She rolled her eyes and began putting the food away.

Carly was unloading the last bag, when Gibby hung up the phone. "Great timing, GIb," she muttered. "Carly! Guess what!" he said, grinning hugely, grabbing a carton of milk out of the refrigerator. "You want?" he asked, pouring himself a tall glass. Carly shook her head, her frustration disappearing as she watched him finish the milk in one gulp, leaving a large milk moustache. "Who was on the phone?" she asked, sitting down on the couch, crossing her legs. "Oh, no one. Just Mr. Blanton offering me a job," Gibby began, rinsing his milky glass in the sink. "_The_ Mr. Blanton? The _billionaire _who almost had us shoot iCarly from space?" Carly cried, jumping to her feet. "Gibby, that's incredible! Did you take it? What will you be doing?" He casually walked over to the couch and sat down beside her. "Well, for now I'll be answering phones and filing papers and stuff. But Mr. Banton said that just secretary-ing for his company will open doors for the rest of my life!" he said dramatically. Carly smiled. His excitement was catching. "Congratulations, Gib. I'm so proud of you," she said. "But, Carly? You might want to look into a new roommate," Gibby said slowly. "Wait…you're moving out?" Carly asked quietly, looking away.

Sam sat at the kitchen table, a stack of papers in front of her, and a to do list three pages long, but she couldn't concentrate. Her attention kept getting drawn up to Freddie, rummaging around the kitchen, beginning to cook dinner. She kept noticing other little things. The way he would run his fingers through his hair, making it stick up when he got frustrated, a habit he'd had since she knew him. The way he grinned while reading the recipe, finding memories in the ingredients or cooking directions. The excruciatingly slow way he had of cutting vegetables, cutting them into uniform pieces and sorting them into color coded piles. Propping her chin on her hand, she thought about the two of them. How they had transitioned from enemies to acquaintances to friends…real friends…best friends. He glanced at her, smiling as he noticed her watching him. He walked over, sat down, and pulled her onto his lap. "What are you thinking about, Princess Puckett?" he asked. "Fried chicken," she answered with a smirk.

Gibby frowned. Carly had quietly stood, left the room, and softly closed her bedroom door behind her. He'd been thrilled to tell her his big news, and her excitement had made the news even sweeter. The thought of moving out made him nervous, and more than a little bit nauseous. Carly was like a sister to him, had been since middle school. She looked after him, was genuinely happy for his successes, and stood up for him always. But he hadn't expected her reaction at all. He had considered himself to be a burden to her, an extra person to cook for, clean after, buy groceries for. He walked to her room and knocked on the door. "Carly?" he called.

She pasted a big smile on her face and opened the door. "I'm sorry, Gibby. That's great news, it really is. I'll just miss you, that's all," she explained, walking back to the living room. "I'll miss you too, Carly," Gibby replied. "Oh! Guess what?" Carly asked, a real smile spreading over her face. "What?" Gibby said, flooded with relief that she wasn't sad anymore. "Sam and Freddie are getting married!" she squealed. "Seriously? Wow. Didn't see that one coming," Gibby said with a smile.

Mrs. Benson firmly believed in the powers of cleanliness. Although she had a cleaning schedule, (she was also a big believer in the power of organization), she did allow herself some emergency cleaning time, when the emotional need was high enough. By 4:30, she had therapeutically vacuumed the entire apartment, rinsed all of the toilets with antibacterial solution, folded each sock and sweater, and wiped all of the mirrors with windex. The rigorous cleaning kept her busy, and she was comforted by her own competence. She believed herself to be a superb cleaner and depended upon the fact that no matter how dirty something became, she was always able to clean it.

As was her habit on days like this, she found herself wandering into Freddie's bedroom. For some reason, she had never been able to bring herself to cleaning this room. The rest of the house was orderly, neat, perfect. But Freddie's room? She hadn't touched a thing since he moved out. His old clothes still were haphazardly folded into drawers; the hangers in his closet didn't face the same way. His little technological gadgets still littered the bureau and dresser, and the Galaxy Wars bedspread was still tightly pulled across the mattress, two barely noticeable indents from Sam and Freddie. Someone looking in would think that her little boy still lived there.


	7. iDance

Marissa Benson's fingers hovered over the keyboard as she chewed on her lip, waiting for words of brilliance to come to her. How do you tell the man you love that the son he never knew is getting married? She wasn't sending him an invitation or asking him to contact her, she knew she wasn't strong enough for that, and she wouldn't dare put Freddie through that kind of pain. But after spending the rest of the day looking through scrapbooks of Freddie's life, she was feeling sentimental, and thought that he should know. "Dear Leonard," she typed, and then jerked her hands away from the keyboard. It had been over twenty-five years since she had last seen his name in writing. With a shaky breath, she hit the save button, nervously watching as the draft folder revealed the number one. That's all that she would type for now.

Samantha Puckett stood at the kitchen counter, her right toe pointed against her left knee in a perfect passé, peeling strips of meat away from the ham bone as she chewed vigorously, desperately working towards feeling full. She kicked her right leg on top of the counter, pointing her toe and leaning over until she could kiss her knee. Satisfied with the stretch, she let her leg fall back to the ground. This was her habit, had been for as long as she could remember. Snacking late at night, going through the stretches that she knew so well. Sam hadn't taken a ballet class in years, but she had never stopped dancing.

He stood behind her, watching as she leaned over her long, tanned, muscular leg, gracefully bending in ways he didn't know were possible. She was in pajamas, her hair piled on top of her head, the little make up that she wore scrubbed away. She had never looked more beautiful. He walked up behind her, and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Her body relaxed in his embrace; he felt her muscles release the tension. "You're not going to be able to sleep if you eat an entire ham this late at night," he murmured. She rolled her eyes and spun out of his arms, holding on to one of his hands and taking another big bite. "Fredalupe," she began, her mouth full. "If that was true, I wouldn't have slept a night since third grade," she said, swallowing the meat.

He shook his head, and sat on top of the counter, head cocked to the side as he watched her begin wrapping up the ham and putting it away in the fridge. "Why'd you stop dancing, Sam?" he asked, genuinely curious. "You're so good. And I know that you love it."

She sighed, and hoisted herself up on the counter beside him. "When Mel and I were six, my Mom was convinced that we would be pageant princesses. We took ballet and tap, and practiced walking in our dresses, and competed all over the place. I liked the pageant stuff all right, but I loved the dancing. I had this really cool teacher, and he always told me how awesome I was. I didn't get that from my mom much at all, so I soaked up the praise. I liked the competition part of it, that if I worked hard I would be a winner. But also, I just loved to… dance."

She stopped, blinking at the ceiling, trying to press down the memories that were returning. Freddie sat quietly, waiting for her to continue. "And then, pageants just weren't enough to keep my mom's attention anymore. She found…other things…that would take her mind off of stuff, and she would forget to take us to classes, and just stop signing us up for any more pageants. And we went to our last pageant, and my mom told us that it would be the last one, so I gave a BS answer during the questions, and pushed someone down the stairs, and I was done," she finished quickly, looking away. Freddie sat, studying her. He stood up, and reached for her hand. "Teach me," he said.

"Teach you what?" she asked distractedly, mentally going through the contents of the pantry, trying to decide the best dessert for her snack of ham. "At weddings, the bride and groom get the first dance. Teach me," he said with that too-big, goofy smile she had grown to love. She jumped down from the counter. "We've danced lots of times before. Prom, random dancing…" she began with a smile. "Okay. I'll teach you, then," he said softly, grabbing her hands. "You place these around my neck, and I place mine around your waist," he said, pulling her close.

Melanie Puckett quietly walked down the stairs of her mother's house, pausing as she always did at the two, framed, pictures at the foot of the stairs. Her six-year-old face, missing the two front teeth, hair pulled into messy braids, grinned back at her. It was her first grade class picture, full of little girl cuteness. She leaned forward to examine the photograph hanging beside it. It was a candid shot of Sam; a baseball hat pulled over her wild curls, laughing at something behind the camera, her eyes big and blue.

Melanie had always been cute, spending time doing her hair and make up every morning, wearing clothes that showed off her body. But living on her own for so many years, learning about the cruelties of the world at such a young age, had hardened her. She was quick to see the faults in people, and remembered people's mistakes for a long time. Seeing how hurt her mom was by her father, she put up a sugary sweet front, and didn't allow herself to get close to anyone…except Sam.

When they were younger, Melanie liked to see Sam as the part of herself that she kept hidden. Cynical, sarcastic, not taking crap from anybody. Sam was her best friend, the only person who really knew her—knew that there was more to Melanie Puckett than the quiet, smart, polite girl that everyone else saw. And Melanie knew that she saw Sam differently too. Instead of seeing the uncaring, bad ass, tomboy, Melanie knew that Sam cared more deeply about people than anyone she knew. That she would protect the people close to her above herself without a second thought. And that she acted like she didn't feel anything because she felt too much.

She reached forward and touched her sister's six-year-old face while looking at her own. To most of the world, the pictures seemed identical. The hair and eyes were the same in both pictures, both of the faces were structured the same way. But Melanie could see the most glaring difference. She was cute. Sam was beautiful.


	8. iWork Things Out

Freddie wiped his sweaty face with the hem of his t-shirt and grimaced, gasping for breath. Attempting a smile at the girl running next to him, he gasped, "Why do we put ourselves through this every week?" She slowed down the treadmill to a walking pace and grinned at him. "So that we can throw it all away on a 600 calorie smoothie afterwards," she answered, breathing hard. Rolling his eyes, he turned off the treadmill. "See you in the parking lot in fifteen," he called, heading for the locker room. "Okay," Carly answered, shaking her hair out of the ponytail holder, and wiping her sweaty neck.

It had been their tradition since junior year. She would pick him up, and they'd drive to the gym, compete to see who could work out the longest and hardest, and then they'd go to the Groovy Smoothie for breakfast. For years, they had tried to convince Sam to join them, but she flat out refused, preferring sleep and a take out smoothie to working out. Other than the occasional weekend when one of them was out of town, they hadn't missed a Saturday. There had been a few awkward weekends when Sam and Freddie first started dating, but they had pushed through it, and now it seemed like the most natural thing to be doing on a Saturday morning.

He settled into the passenger seat and placed his gym bag at his feet as she pulled out of the parking lot, glancing at the threatening sky. "We decided on a date," he began conversationally, a hint of pride in his voice. "Oh, that's great, Freddie! When's the big day?" she asked, looking over at him. "Eyes on the road, Shay," he threatened. When she returned to facing front, rolling her eyes dramatically, he continued, "May 15th. We're still looking for a place, but we both want it to be small. You know, something meaningful and special, but informal, not flashy and extravagant." Carly smiled, but didn't dare look at him. "Oh, no you wouldn't want _extravagant," _she said, absently missing the would-be sarcastic remark from Sam about his vocabulary. "But that sounds perfect. Aww, I'm so excited. You guys are so cute," she said, pulling into the Groovy Smoothie. Putting the car in park, she tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to look at him. "Sam's a lucky girl, Freddie," she said softly.

T-Bo ran his hands under the freezing water pulsing out of the sink, and wiped them dry on his jeans. The door to the smoothie shop dinged, and he smiled as Carly and Freddie walked in the door. "Sup, guys?" he asked as they made their way to the register. T-Bo had started working at the Groovy Smoothie as a part-time job during high school, and slowly but steadily received promotions as time went on. Currently, he was the store's manager. He had watched the kids of the area grow up, seen the haircuts and braces and glasses and dates and parties, all the while whipping up strawberry splats and blueberry blitzes.

They sat down at their usual table, quietly slurping on their smoothies. Carly sighed and looked out the window. Freddie watched her, concerned. "Carls? What's wrong?" he asked. She turned to face him with a sad smile on her face. "Freddie, I'm so happy for you and Sam. I really, really am. It's just hard, you know? I mean, we dated for a few days when we were fifteen. We've slow danced…we've _kissed. _And it's not like I'm jealous or anything. Ew. You're like my brother. I just don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you, Freddie," she said, her voice growing louder. "I've already lost Spencer, Gibby's moving out, and I just couldn't lose you too," she finished, standing up and looking away. He stood and grabbed her arm. "Carly. Come on. You haven't been able to get rid of me for, like, twenty years. Do you really think we could stop being friends if we tried?" he asked, reaching towards her. After a slightly noticeable pause, she offered him a shaky smile, and accepted his hug.

Sarah Puckett examined the contents of her refrigerator, yawned hugely, and closed the refrigerator's door without taking anything out. She carefully measured out a tablespoon of instant coffee, dumped it in a coffee mug filled with water, and placed it in the microwave. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed as they climbed down the staircase, and Sarah turned around to see Melanie walking into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a tank top with her hair pulled into her trademark high ponytail. "Good morning, Mum," she said, kissing Sarah on the cheek and selecting a banana from the fruit bowl by the sink. "Morning, honey," Sarah replied, watching her daughter closely. She peeled the skin off of the banana carefully, gathering the pieces in a pile on the countertop and eating it in small nibbles, the same way she'd eaten bananas her whole life. She glanced up at Sarah and smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

With a deep breath, Marissa Benson clicked "send" and blinked rapidly as the message went spinning off into cyberspace. She sat at the computer for a minute, lost in her thoughts, until the phone rang loudly, causing her to jump up guiltily and search for the phone. Clutching the minimum radiation telephone, she frowned at the unknown number, and answered with a breathless, "Hello?" A rich, deep, all-too-familiar voice answered, "Hello, Marissa. It's me, Leonard."

"Leonard?" Marissa repeated, sinking to the floor, resting her back against the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. "I just read the email you sent. Our little Freddie's getting married," he said, his voice sad and longing, but masked with overdone cheerfulness. "Yes. He is," Marissa answered, surprising herself with the coldness in her own voice. She had expected to be an emotional disaster if she ever had to speak with Leonard again, but instead she felt numb. And angry. "Marissa?" he began, in that slow way of his. "Thank you for the email. I certainly didn't expect or deserve any contact from you, but it really means a lot to me. Little Freddie's getting married," he continued. She began to form a response, but he cut her off, saying, "Marissa. I would really, really love to be at this wedding. The last thing I want is to make you or Freddie uncomfortable, especially at such a special time like this. But just promise me you'll think about it, okay? I really want to see my only son get married," he finished, his voice trailing off. "I'll think about it," Marissa said shortly, forcing herself to relax—her shoulders were hunched up by her ears, and her toes were cramping from clutching her shoes so tightly. "That's all I ask," Leonard said, and she could hear the smile on his face as he spoke. "Good bye, Marissa."

She hung up before he did.


	9. iFind a Wedding Dress

_**A/N: I am so sorry for the really long delay in posting this chapter. Future chapters should be posted much more promptly, thank you for your patience! Please read and review, let me know what you think. Enjoy!**_

On strict instructions from Melanie, Sam's hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she wore a strapless bra, clothes that were easy to change in and out of, and had her purse stocked with a bottle of water, a stack of bridal magazines, and two ziploc baggies filled with baked beans and chunks of bacon. She glanced at herself in the mirror and crinkled her nose. She looked just like Melanie.

"Why can't I come, Sam? You're going to leave me home alone?" Freddie whined, watching as she gathered her stuff and grabbed her car keys from the hook by the door. "Everyone knows it's bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the wedding, Freddison," she said rolling her eyes. He frowned as she leaned up to kiss him, but smiled at the surprisingly gentle way she had of pressing her lips to his. She pulled away grinning. "I'm already late, Benson. See you tonight. Wish me luck," she called over her shoulder as she unlocked the front door. "Find something pretty," he answered, smiling as he watched her walk out to the car.

She couldn't help but smile as she pulled into the parking lot of "Something New Bridal." As a kid, she had earned the reputation as the ultimate tomboy. While, yes, she preferred to wear comfortable clothes that didn't prohibit movement, she liked getting dressed up sometimes. What girl didn't want to look beautiful now and then, especially if it was for Freddie?

The door to the bridal store opened with a loud ding, causing everyone in the store to glance at the entryway. Sam spotted her mother, Carly, and Melanie right away, chatting animatedly with a salesperson, and walked over quickly. "Oh, hey! This is my sister, Sam, she's the bride," Melanie explained in that sickly sweet way of hers to the salesperson. "Hi, Sam. My name is Darlene, I'll be helping you today. Come on over, and we'll get you all set up, okay?" she said with a big smile.

Carly and Melanie rummaged through the racks of bridesmaid dresses as they waited for Darlene to return with the wedding gown samples. "How's Gibby doing, Carly?" Melanie asked innocently, wincing at a particularly horrible ruffled magenta dress. Carly blushed. "I'd forgotten how intuitive you are, Mel. He's fine. Great, actually, he just got a job offer directly from Mr. Balton, that kooky billionaire who we did that space thing with. Gibby will just be like a secretary, but working with a company like that opens doors for any career. It really is a great opportunity for him, he's really excited," Carly said, becoming very interested in examining a dress.

"Carls, put that down, both of us would look atrocious in neon orange," Melanie said gently, taking the dress out of Carly's hand. "That's great! Tell him I said congrats. What does that mean for you guys, though?" she asked. Carly sighed. "I don't really know. Obviously, I'm totally thrilled for him, this is an awesome opportunity. And it's so not like we're dating or anything like that, he's like my brother. But now he's moving out and I have to find another roommate and I don't know why I feel so confused. And I don't want to make this a big deal right now, because it should be all about Sam and Freddie, you know? But it feels good to talk to someone," Carly said in a rush.

Melanie pulled her into a hug. "Aww, Carly. Thanks for telling me. I think you should talk to Gibby," she said with a small smile. She loved Carly to pieces, and would be forever grateful to her for watching out for Sam and keeping her out of trouble, a job that should have belonged to Sarah. If it wasn't for Sam and Carly's friendship, there was no way that Melanie would have been able to leave her sister behind. But Carly's life had always seemed unbelievably simple to Melanie; her problems always seemed to have such an easy solution.

Sam glanced over at her maids of honor, Melanie talking to Carly consolingly. Concerned, Sam began to make her way over, but Melanie shook her head, and mouthed, "later". Sarah smiled as she watched her daughters talk in that silent way of theirs, oblivious to the fact that Carly was watching the entire exchange. "Isn't this nice, Sammy?" she asked, placing her hand on Sam's shoulder. "All of us girls together again." Sam glanced around the room, suddenly aware that something seemed to be glaringly obviously missing. "Mom, I have to make a quick call. I'll be right back, okay?" she said, pulling out her cell phone and stepping outside of the little boutique. She scrolled through her contacts until she came to the m's…"m" for "mrs".

Mrs. Benson picked up on the first ring, instantly concerned for Freddie's safety. Her caller ID had informed her that PUCKETT, SAMANTHA was calling. Sam had never called her for anything before, other than the night their junior year of high school that Freddie got severe food poisoning, ironically from a rancid taco, and had to be temporarily hospitalized. "What's wrong with Freddie?" she asked immediately. Sam took a deep breath to keep herself from spitting back a sarcastic remark. "Freddie's fine, Mrs. Benson. He's running around doing errands. I actually called because me, my mom, my sister, and Carly are shopping for a wedding dress, and I was wondering if you wanted to join us."

Marissa pulled the phone away from her ear, looked at it, and pressed it back to her ear. "Are…are you sure, Samantha? You'd really want me to come with you to look for your wedding dress?" she asked, a tone in her voice that Sam had never heard before. Gone was the authoritative, bossy, but undeniably strong voice that Sam knew so well. In its place was nervousness, insecurity, and a hopefulness so prominent that it made Sam feel a surge of hatred for Leon Benson. "Yes, Mrs. Benson. That's exactly what I want."

Forty minutes and three dresses later, Sarah, Melanie, Carly, and Marissa sat on the couch outside of the dressing room, waiting for Sam to emerge again. Darlene pulled the door open, and Sam walked out amidst yards of lacy fabric. She stood on top of the pedestal in front of the three-way mirror and sighed. The fun was rapidly leaving the afternoon. All of the dresses had been pretty—covered in beading, draped in lace, swathed with satin bows—but none of them held anything remotely like Sam wanted her wedding to feel like. She wasn't quite sure what that feeling was, but none of these dresses had come even close.

"Well, that's all that I had brought back to start out with. I'll go and grab some new ones, be back in a few," Darlene said, her big smile and overwhelming energy fading quickly. Sam sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch, resting her head against Carly's shins. "Sorry I'm so difficult," she muttered, her eyes cast down.

Marissa quietly stood up, and began rummaging through the bags of gowns hung throughout the store. "What did you wear, Mom?" Melanie asked sweetly, in an attempt to cheer Sam up. "Jeans and a bikini top. We got married at the drive thru in Vegas, baby," she answered, only half-jokingly. "You'll find the perfect dress, Sam. And if not, you can always wear that winning pageant dress," Carly said encouragingly as Marissa came over breathlessly, clutching a bag to her chest. "Try this one on, Samantha," she instructed bossily, pulling Sam up and pressing the bag into her arms. "Go!" she insisted as Sam stumbled into the dressing room.

The four of them—Melanie, Marissa, Sarah, and Carly—stared intently at the dressing room door. The sound of a zipper followed by a soft gasp floated through as Sam tentatively opened the door and stepped outside.

She stood on top of the pedestal, nodding her head furiously. "This is it, Mom. This is my wedding dress," she said, willing herself not to become emotional. Slowly, she turned around, admiring the gown from all angles. It was the perfect mix of delicate, contemporary, and whimsical. Hugging her body, it emphasized her slenderness and illuminated her curves. "Thank you, Mrs. Benson," she said as Marissa walked closer, grinning hugely as she stared at the girl her son was going to marry.


	10. iRelax

Leonard Benson sat alone at a breakfast table in the hotel lobby, styrofoam coffee cup in hand, the newspaper spread across the table, his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he pored over the headlines. He took a tentative sip of coffee, testing the temperature on his tongue before swallowing. As his eyes roamed around the lobby, a family emerged from the elevator and noisily began making their way to the complimentary breakfast buffet. He watched as the mother tiredly scooped scrambled eggs and bacon on to a plate, and led her little girl over to the toaster as the father held the baby, gently bouncing and yawning hugely. Leonard swallowed hard.

More than anything, he wanted to look away, go outside, just _leave, _but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the family. The baby started whimpering, causing Leonard to subconsciously clench his jaw. The father murmured into the baby's ear, rocking him in his arms, until the baby's cries subsided. Leonard swallowed hard and stood up, leaving the newspaper behind as he walked out the door. He didn't look back.

Sam sat on a stool in Freddie's apartment, her feet curled beneath her. She squinted at the computer screen of Freddie's laptop, periodically glancing at the glowing green numbers of the microwave clock. Freddie had instructed her to read through the preliminary guest list, for them to discuss when he got home. The metallic twisting of a key grinding through a lock echoed through the quiet apartment, causing Sam to leap to her feet and turn the doorknob at the same time Freddie did. His eyes lit up as they soaked in the sight of her. To be drunken by Freddie's eyes filled Sam with an exuberant warmness that filled her in a way that no amount of food ever could. She leaned up and pressed her lips to hers, and they stood there, kissing in the doorway.

Carly stretched out across the living room couch, a junkyard find that Spencer had restuffed and reupholstered, a blanket wrapping her in a cocoon and a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream melting on the coffee table. She wiggled around in the blanket, trying to figure out the best way to slide her arm out to eat. Leaning forward, she balanced on the edge of the couch cushion, and reached for the ice cream carton when the door banged open, sending her toppling to the ground.

"What's up, Carls?" Gibby asked, walking into the living room and dropping his jacket on the back of the couch. "Really, Gibby? Really?" she grumbled, crawling back onto the couch. "You look like you need a sack," he said with a chuckle. "Not the time, Gib," Carly snapped, but smiled in spite of herself at the ridiculous memory. "Why not?" he asked, reaching for the ice cream carton. She said nothing and sat silently, watching as he maneuvered the spoon around the inside of the ice cream carton, strategically digging out the biggest chocolate chunks.

Later, the ice cream long gone and the movie credits rolling, Carly bit her lower lip as she watched Gibby sleep, his face was relaxed into a shadow of boyishness. Growing up, Carly often felt motherly and protective towards him. That had started to change when she realized the way Sam and Freddie felt towards each other. Letting go of Freddie was one of the hardest things Carly had ever had to do. Selfishly, she considered him her back up plan, and she knew that he would do anything for her. But watching him interact with Sam made her realize that she could never make him happy the way Sam could.

That was right around the time that Gibby slowly became part of their group. He had been on the fringes of iCarly since the beginning, but as Sam and Freddie got closer, Carly invited Gibby along to everything to avoid feeling like a third wheel. But falling in love with him had never been part of the plan.

Their lips were moving together in the rhythm they knew so well. Their hands were grabbing at each other desperately, frantically pulling closer, both minds wiped blissfully clean. Sam took a shaky step forward, still clinging to Freddie, and he followed eagerly, pulling the apartment door shut behind them.

Marissa was perched on the edge of her favorite hazard-free chair in the living room, eyes glued to the television screen, tears streaming down her face. She had been flipping through the channels, looking for something to play in the background as she mopped the floors, when she stumbled across the opening credits for "A Walk to Forget," her ultimate guilty pleasure in sappy movies. Her cleaning plans were instantly forgotten as she sat down to watch. Two hours later, here she sat, bawling as the ending credits scrolled across the screen. A tentative knock at her door forced her to pull herself together. Hiccupping, she did her best to clear her throat and called out, "Who's there?" as she walked to the doorway to peer through the peephole. "It's just me, Marissa. Leonard. May I come in?"


	11. iArrive Unannounced

Marissa stood motionless, blinking rapidly as she stared at the door. "Marissa?" that voice…_that voice_…repeated, sounding concerned. "Just a moment," she called, willing her voice to sound strong and indifferent, instead of shaky and uncertain. She typed in the security code slowly, frantically trying to figure out what she was going to do. With a trembling finger, she pressed the last digit and ran to the bathroom, calling, "Come in, I'll be right out".

Leonard cautiously walked into the apartment building, frowning in confusion at the fancy alarm system inside the door. The Marissa Benson he knew had been adventurous, fearless. In the years that they had lived together, they owned no alarm system other than a deadbolt lock and a whole lot of trust. He flinched as a door slammed.

Pulling the door shut tightly behind her, she squinted at the mirror, assessing her reflection. Two and a half hours of sobbing had left red splotches across her face, and her eyes were red and puffy. Groaning to herself, she quickly brushed out her hair, and splashed cold water on her face. She opened the medicine cabinet, where she stored her makeup in childproof containers, and then paused.

While she was with Leonard, she would spend close to an hour every morning, emphasizing or concealing various facial features. After he left, she rarely wore anything but chapstick. Closing her eyes, she imagined leaving the bathroom, and falling into his arms again. As they shared a long, passionate, tearful, embrace, he would murmur words into her ear about how beautiful she was, and that he never stopped loving her.

Opening her eyes, she shook her head, clearing away the image. Equally as appealing would be marching out there, a completely independent woman, and screaming at Leonard. How dare he come by unannounced like this? How dare he turn her into this overprotective, aggressive, lonely old woman? Oh, so now that the hard part of raising a child is done, he wants to enjoy the incredible young man Freddie has become? Once again, he wants to make this beautiful celebration, Freddie's marriage, all about him? She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and left the bathroom.

Leonard had sat down on the couch in the living room, eyes roaming around the apartment, trying to understand what Marissa had become. Everything seemed very…safe. And sterilized. If it weren't for the many photographs of Marissa and Freddie, (in frames that appeared to be rinsed with bleach and pounded with a mallet?) this could have been anyone's apartment. Anyone with young children, who required everything to be child-proofed. This completely perplexed Leonard. Freddie didn't even live at home anymore. Was Marissa remarried? Did she have young children with this new man? The very thought formed a lump in his throat, though he really couldn't blame her. Just because he hadn't moved on, hadn't even seriously dated for the past twenty-something years, didn't mean that she hadn't. Although she was pretty old to be having children…

"Hi, Leonard," Marissa said quietly, walking into the living room. She was pleased that her voice was quiet, but cold. His eyes darted to her left hand as he stood, and he was relieved to find no wedding ring. Although that didn't necessarily mean…"Hello, Marissa. I'm sorry for dropping in on you like this. I know I should have called first, but I'm staying in the area and wanted to stop by. If you'd rather I leave, just say the word," he said, in that slow, careful way of his. Yes, she thought. Leave. I can't do this right now. Freddie and I have managed just fine on our own. Just go. But instead, she said, "No, it's alright. Here, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

They sat at the kitchen table, each cradling a coffee cup, in an uncomfortable silence. Small talk had dried up before the coffee had finished brewing; a short conversation about the unchanging rain of Seattle had lasted while Marissa poured the coffee. They each took a long sip. Reenergized by the caffeine, Marissa looked at Leonard for the first time. His thick head of hair looked exactly the same as she remembered it, but the salt and pepper flecks of gray and white were new. His clothes were starched and ironed, the collared shirt and pressed khaki pants that he regularly wore when not working. Although he looked thinner than when she last saw him, the muscles she remembered seemed to have softened into his body. An involuntary blush crept over her cheeks as she wondered what his appraisal of her was.

Years of living alone had left Leonard comfortable with silence, but he could tell that Marissa was [] trying to fill the pause in conversation. A lovely red flooded her face, masking the worry lines surrounding her eyebrows and mouth. Leonard was pleased (really, he was) to see the laugh lines fanning out from the corner of her eyes. He leaned slightly closer to her, trying to figure out what was making her blush.

She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. "Listen, Leonard. We both know that you didn't come here to discuss the rain," she said. "Why are you here?"


End file.
